The Billionaires (Lover's Triangle 1)

Vin sucked down more champagne as his blood boiled. What was it about Jewel Catalano that held him enrapt—and chipped away at him at the same time?

It wasn’t just the nearly palpable sexual tension that naturally sparked between her and Rogen. Hell, it flamed between Vin and her as well.

Maybe that was what put him so on edge. How could she be so addictive to both men? And why the hell could none of them fully break free of the web they’d woven years ago? For that matter, why were they spinning and twining fresh threads now?

Vin set aside his glass. There was raw agitation coursing through his veins that wasn’t entirely related to this land deal Jewel was trying to pull off. He was too damn caught up in her for his own good. The smart, savvy woman she’d become. The sweet, shattered girl she’d once been.

For Christ’s sake, how many tears had he brushed from her cheeks?

How many times had he told himself it was pointless to fall for her? How many times was he going to tell himself now that she could never be a part of his and Rogen’s current sexual lifestyle? While in the back of his mind he wondered if she actually could be.

With a mental shake of his head, he tried to steer clear of all the emotions she evoked, all the desire. All the landmines inherent to their situation.

He said, “You’re forgetting that it’s not just Gian’s and Rose-Marie’s signatures you need on a bill of sale, Jewel. You have to get Rogen’s, too. And I’ve advised him not to sign.”

Vin pushed to his feet and stalked off, not wanting to see the look of defeat on Jewel’s face.

That he’d put there.

SIX

“What the hell?” Rogen questioned as Vin stormed off.

Jewel’s gaze was on Vin’s back. Her stomach knotted. Her heart wrenched.

Vin’s hostility was wrapped in pain.

She’d experienced it enough in her lifetime to recognize the signs. To hear it in his voice. See it in his eyes.

But what, exactly, was his full source of contention? It was clearly directed at her. Yet Jewel had no idea why he was so razor-sharp with her.

Sure, the fact that he’d come across her and Rogen making love the other night might have something to do with it. Might have cut deep.

Though it really shouldn’t.

Vin had walked out on her. Not the other way around.

Obviously, she was missing something.

“Here I thought this was going to be a civilized afternoon,” she lamented. Cocktails and appetizers. Vin in black pants and a robin’s-egg blue dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up his impressive forearms. Rogen in black pants as well with a magenta polo shirt from the local country club, the hems of the short sleeves straining against his bulging biceps. Her in her mini and sandals.

She sighed. Polished off her champagne and deposited the crystal flute on the table. To Rogen, she said, “This is unresolved angst. I need to speak with him.” Clear the air. Once and for all.

Jewel followed after Vin, through the dining room toward the restrooms. She found him at the end of the long hallway, by the windows, talking on his iPhone and pacing agitatedly.

He caught sight of her, disconnected the call, and sauntered toward her.

“What business is it of yours if I make a deal with Gian for the property?” she asked.

“Maybe Rogen has plans for that land, Jewel. Ever occur to you?”

“No, actually. He’s never personally come to my family to buy us out.”

Vin shoved a hand through his dark, tousled hair. “He’s equally entitled. By inheritance.”

“Jesus, Vin. We could be sixty or seventy before that property passes to us. It’s just going to sit undeveloped for the next thi

rty, forty years because of some absurd argument?”